


Leather Wings and Lacy Things

by trappedinhellfire



Category: The Walking Dead, Twd - Fandom, Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Angry Sex, Bathroom Counter, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/M, Lace Kink, Orgasm Denial, Oxygen Denial, Pre-Apocalypse, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:45:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trappedinhellfire/pseuds/trappedinhellfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It vaguely registered somewhere in a corner of her mind that this wasn't okay-  or /was/ it okay? All she could think about was the grip of his mouth against hers: hot, ragged, and oh so desirable.</p><p> </p><p>////<br/>Pre-Apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting on AO3. Be gentle with me, senpai.
> 
> This started out as strictly PWP, but I felt the need to add some storyline to the beginning. I have too much respect for Daryl as a character to write him in straight smut (at least, I like to THINK I do...)
> 
> I'm high off the season 4 finale and couldn't resist writing everyone's favorite apocalyptic archer, albeit before the apocalypse hits.
> 
> Enjoy! Comments and advice are welcome. Chapter 2 to be posted on Sunday, chapter 3 in the days shortly following that.

///

The morning sun dawned red and unwelcome on the Georgia landscape, casting its first rays of light out like fingers grasping for relief.

Light filtered harshly through an open window in a ramshackle hut. It threw fiery tendrils upon the walls.

A stiff figure moved- groggy and restless- kicking off a tattered blanket, rising from the threadbare cot.

"Fuckin' _hell_ "

Daryl's head spun in a tipsy dance - after effects from last night's bender. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, grunting in distaste, and waited for the feeling to subside.

It didn't.

" _Fuck_ " he cursed again, rolling and stretching his shoulders, scanning the too-bright room for his go-to hangover remedy. He spied it at the room's corner.

Rocking onto his feet, he moved in a half-lidded daze, picked up last night's mostly drained vodka bottle, and turned the rest of the contents into his mouth. The glass dropped unceremoniously from his hand as he searched for a new one.

///

An hour later, he was lit again. And now, a more pressing need dominated him - the need to fill his already growling belly with red meat.

He shouldered into his cut-off leather jacket, lifted his crossbow from its peg on the wall, and tromped out into the blinding sun.

///

The roar of a motorcycle being gunned to life met his ears as soon as he passed out the door. Grudgingly, his eyes slid to the shady tree where the chopper stood, his older brother astride it.

Merle grinned a wicked smile, his power complex evident even in that tiny action. Revving the engine several times, he cajoled loudly over the roar.

"Where ya' headin', little brother?"

Daryl continued walking down the dirt path, his eyes set upon the ground - not on his brother. What he wouldn't give to not respond...

"Ou't. 'M hungry. Gonna hunt."

Merle's laughter could be heard even over the thrum of the chopper. Daryl narrowed his gaze, annoyed. 

"Alrigh't, ya' do that, princess." Merle spurred the chopper into gear and circled in front of Daryl's path, blocking his way.

Daryl brought his eyes up to meet his brother's face, not bothering to conceal his contempt and irritation.

"Outta ma' way, Merle." his gruff voice laced with impatience. Merle was always a raging dick.

The grin still plastered to his face, Merle continued to chuckle. "Calm yer' tits, swee'heart. Listen here. Come 'ta Jimmy's la'ter on. He's got tha' new tweak." Merle's smile stretched wider and wilder. He whooped at the top of his lungs, gunned the engine one more time, and disappeared through the trees. 

Daryl stared after him, his eyes tight, his anger boiling just under the surface. Seconds passed- three, four, five- and then he picked off the trail into the trees, walking amongst the sun and shadows.

The hunter was ready to hunt.

///

Time turned as Daryl closed in on his quarry. The tracks never lied - he was near, mere seconds away, now. Several steps along and a slight clearing in the trees revealed a bushy cottontail: the large brown rabbit he sought.

Breathing soft and shallow, Daryl lowered himself among the brush, raising his crossbow and taking aim. He sighted the animal, took one more steadying breath - and released the arrow with a _twang!_

The bolt soared through the air and hit with dead-pan accuracy, burrowing straight into the rabbit's head. Instantly, his quarry fell in place. A small smile broke onto Daryl's face.

He never missed.

///

Coils of smoke rose and twisted from the fire beside him as he munched on his meal.

A successful hunt, an easy kill. And rabbits were quick to skin, fast to roast, and agreed with the stomach - even one churning with low-grade vodka.

He licked his fingers clean, staring up through the trees at the heated halo of the sun with squinted eyes. Just past noon.

Debate moved his mind as to whether or not he should meet up with Merle- and by extension , Jimmy the tweaker- or ditch that sonovabitch and just continue to drink, alone.

He was leaning more towards the 'alone' option when he heard it - off in the forest, a woman's scream.

" _Shit_ -"

Daryl sprang to his feet, kicked sand over the fire, grabbed his crossbow, and leapt into the trees in pursuit.

///

It wasn't difficult to find the source. Daryl _knew_ these trees, knew this forest, better than anyone. He was raised in this wood (if you could call it being 'raised') and knew it like an extension of his arm.

Yet the girl's distressful screams proved easy to follow, regardless. _Hell_ , she was loud. And when he broke through the brush upon the scene, Daryl could see why.

A young woman ran madly, terrifyingly, from a wild boar. The feral hog charged her, and it took all of her speed to stay _just_ out of its reach.

"Fuckin' _hell_ -"

He reacted sinuously - his bow fell into practiced place, his aim - straight, taunt, focused. He loosed the arrow and it flew -

Plugging right into the boar's left eye, splitting its brain. The beast fell with a brutish, dying squeal, kicking up a cloud of brown dust that covered Daryl's view.

He moved - alert, crossbow still raised and locked, one of his eyes closed in focus as he looked down the sight. The dust finally cleared and he saw the boar, dead in a jumbled heap. He glanced up, and - 

The woman was staring at him. Face pale and terrified, mouth open in shock, body frozen mid-stride.

His blue eyes met her dark ones.

///

She stared into her savior's eyes in stunned silence. A gruff-looking man- slim, yet muscular- he wore dirty jeans and a sleeveless, black leather motorcycle jacket. His brown hair was matted and messy; his face peppered with scruffy stubble. 

The man lowered his crossbow and took half a step back, sliding easily into a relaxed stance.

"Ya' alrigh't?"

A full southern-Georgia accent. Grass roots and moonshine-type. She felt an involuntary twitch in her legs - the urge to run? 

This man spelled trouble.

///

The woman continued to stare blankly at him. Figuring she was either too dazed, or just too damn shocked, he raised his voice to repeat the question.

"I _said_ , ya' alrigh't?

Daryl noticed her shake herself physically from the reverie. She glanced quickly down at the hog's innate form, then back up again to his eyes.

"Y-yes... I think so."

Exhaling a grunt through his nostrils, he shouldered his crossbow to one side. This stupid girl would be dead- impaled on the boar's charge, if it wasn't for him.

"Best be careful 'round these parts. Wild hog 're tha' _least_ of yer worries."

He watched as a rare warm breeze scattered the trees around them, picking up leaves and swirling grass. The woman pulled at her long dark hair, which suddenly whipped into the wind.

" 'Wha's yer name, swee'heart?"

She looked about and finally managed to grab her hair in her hands.

"Elle. My name is Elle."

///

_City girl. Obviously. Who else drives a fuckin' Prius?_

He sat in the passenger-side of her car as she drove down the main road into town. She had offered to buy him a drink to repay him for saving her - and that was one offer he (to date) had never refused.

Wondering idly if the girl was actually over twenty-one - she _looked_ no more than eighteen - he toyed with the thought of what she was thinking right now.

Offering a strange hick guy nearly twice her age some free alcohol? That _had_ to be nerve-wracking. The girl was probably shaking internally with anxious energy.

Daryl smirked slightly and stared out the window, enjoying the feeling of a working air-conditioner against his face, and messing his muddy boots all over the carpet.

He didn't give two fucks if she cared.

 

 

///


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughh this chapter was a total bitch to edit. But I still think it turned out okay. Anyway, here is chapter 2, as promised! Chapter 3 will be posted this Wednesday or Thursday depending on how long it takes me to revise it.

///

Gravel made way under his feet as he stomped up the short path and through the bar doors. Without so much as a glance behind him, he sat down at an empty table in the darkest corner.

The woman followed close behind with a peculiar expression etched onto her face. Was it annoyance, anxiety, shyness? Daryl couldn't read facial cues to save his life. Perhaps she felt jaded that he didn't open the door for her, or pull out her chair, or say something polite and gentle. Common Southern charm was lost on him; he had none of it.

He _definitely_ wasn't that type of man. 

He shouldered back his chair, tipping it slightly so his head rested against the wall, watching the girl's eyes dart haphazardly around - the table to the bar to the ground to her hands, clasped firmly in front of her. Everywhere but on his face.

A wry smirk spread back onto his features. _She's nervous as hell._

He had to speak first, then.

" I'll take whiskey, nea't."

Her eyes finally flashed to his. With a nod - curt, meek - the woman got up and walked to the bar. He didn't stop his eyes from tracing the outline of her back, sweeping over her hips as she stepped away, coming to rest on the curve of her ass.

The smirk stretched wider. He definitely was _that_ type of man.

///

All it took was some alcohol to get her to start talking. Two drinks in, and she chatted away like some prissy, inebriated college bitch.

Daryl could have dealt with it, if only she wasn't so polar opposite from him.

City girl, from New York. Visiting an aunt in Atlanta. Stopped in the woods to bird watch.

Seriously, _bird watching_? He couldn't think of anything more boring. Sinking deeper into his third round of whiskey, he let her jabber away about summer break and friends and shopping. He guessed that he could put up with it a bit longer; the girl was buying him drinks, after all. And he wasn't eager to meet up with Merle anytime soon.

But the longer they stayed, the more drinks they had - Daryl realized that they shared absolutely _nothing_ in common. They didn't mix at all.

Like oil and water. Like leather and lace.

///

She chattered on in a constant stream, sipping on her girly Long Island iced teas, and revealing more about herself than Daryl really cared to know. Gradually her eyes glossed over and her speech started to slur.

_Fuckin' lightweight..._

A low snicker escaped his lips yet the woman couldn't have been bothered to notice, - continuing on with her tireless stories and past experiences.

Truthfully, Daryl stopped listening after five or ten minutes. The words passed through his ears as if they were muted. He saw her lips move, - mouth forming syllables and vowels, but they fell apart into silence once they reached him.

His mind had more important things to focus on. It was as if he entered a type of auto-pilot mode, sitting there against the rough wood wall, his feet propped up on a nearby stool. Glass after glass of the whiskey disappeared down his throat.

He found himself looking at her. Really _looking_ at her. The cute way her mouth dipped into a pout when she frowned, the lush fall of her dark hair lying on her neck. When her tresses shifted, exposing more of her pale skin, his mind fell to a guttered place spiked with dirty thoughts.

Roving his gaze farther downward, he followed the tilt of her collar bones, until his eyes fixed on her breasts, full and round underneath her shirt.

He had a sudden flash of vivid color - a scenario burning to life in his mind. He imagined his mouth teasing one of her tits - ragged and unyielding, pinned under his control, molded to his harsh lips. The _taste_ of it - creamy and supple. And he pictured her reaction - the tiny gasps and mewling moans he elicited from her. And her body - _her body_ , restrained by him. Held down how _he_ wanted it to be, moving to _his_ rhythm.

A growing presence in his crotch ripped him back to reality. _Fuck it, Dixon. Not here, not now._ He moved his hand to his dick, readjusting himself through his jeans - and peeked at Elle's face to see if she had noticed.

She hadn't.

///

When she broke to use the bathroom, he drained the rest of his glass in one swallow and laid back against the wall, closing his eyes. He was lit, nothing else mattered.

Before long, several voices reached his ear. Raised, loud, spurred on alcohol. He paid them no mind until a faint sound clashed with the drunken jeers.

A woman's voice. _Her_ voice.

Daryl's eyes snapped open instantly and he sharply kicked the table away, causing glass to fall to the ground, breaking into crystalline shards. He rose to his feet and followed the raucous cries and soft protests around a corner leading to the bathroom.

The woman stood pressed into the worn wall, four men crowded around her, sneering and heckling. Catcalls loosed in rapid succession - rude, mocking. They reached at her, touching her hair, her side, her arms.

"Hey!"

Momentarily jerked out of their game, four sets of eyes rolled over to Daryl. He blocked the frame of the hallway, preventing exit backwards.

One of the men laughed - a loud, ugly sound. "Step off, ya' hear? We foun' this perty thing first. Claimed. 'lright?"

Perhaps it was the alcohol searing steadily in his veins that magnified his temper. Perhaps it was just because he had a low tolerance for dumb rednecks. But either way, Daryl _wasn't_ about to let some two-bit hick tell him what to do.

" 'Yeah? Claim _this_."

And he fired a sharp right hook into the closest man's face, who crumpled to the ground, out cold. He whipped another punch at a second man before the other two reacted, launching themselves at Daryl's form.

He swung back, dodging a blow, and sent a swift knee upwards into the third man's gut. Like the previous two cronies, he fell to the floor - holding his stomach, gasping in pain.

Just one left. The so-called ringleader who told Daryl off in the first place. Bellowing in a vodka-fueled rage, the stranger let two jabs fly. Daryl missed one, but the second clipped him on the jaw. 

That was the last straw.

Daryl brought his arm quickly back, snapping it forward to deliver a whiplash across the ringleader's cheek. The man's body spun forcefully with the weight of the blow, and he spat out a mouthful of blood before he too dropped in a heap.

Riding high off adrenaline and whiskey, Daryl grabbed Elle's hand, ignoring the bewildered look on her face, and pulled her roughly along behind him.

"C'mon, let's get outta here."

///

She surrendered her car keys to him, as well as directions to her motel, and sat in weary silence in the passenger side as Daryl sped her Prius through the streets.

Probably _not_ a good idea to let a buzzed stranger take control of her car, but truth be told she wasn't exactly sober, either. And Daryl seemed quite functional when sparked with alcohol. Oddly functional.

Only a binger had that type of tolerance.

The car wove down dirt paths and gravel roads. Elle peered at Daryl from the corner of her eye. This unkempt, abrasive man had proved himself twice to her. Saved her, twice. He didn't _need_ to, but he had, regardless.

His voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Ya' alrigh't? Yer bein' silent, again. Ya' couldn' shut up ten minutes ago."

"Ah." _Stupid, Elle. Stupid._ "Yeah... I'm fine. All thanks to you."

Daryl didn't lose a beat brushing her words off. "Was nothin'. They asked f'or it."

They hadn't, actually. Not outright. But she decided not to point that out. Lapsing back into quiet, she turned her head towards him and continued to stare at Daryl's face. The curve of his nose, rise of his cheekbones - and for now, she felt safe. Safe with a stranger.

Odd. But irrevocably true.

///

When he rolled the car up the motel driveway and around to her room, the sun was just beginning to sink below the horizon. Ruddy golds and reds painted the world in flushed pigment.

Throwing the car in park ( _damn automatic piece of shit_ ) and tossing her keys onto her lap, he placed one hand on the door handle.

"Here ya' are. Safe 'n sound. ...'Bye." And he made to get out, opening the door.

Elle gasped beside him. "Wait! What are you doing...?"

Daryl turned back to look at her, his blue eyes narrowed. " 'M leavin'. Can walk back on mah' own."

"Wait," she said again, her hand reaching up - almost unbidden - to his shoulder, and settling there upon his skin. "Please don't leave yet..."

He looked down to her hand, which burned slightly from her elevated temperature. Alcohol still swirled thick through her system. His eyes slid to hers - wide, innocent. He tried not to think about the warmth of her hand, the lock of her gaze. Yet truthfully, it had been long... _much_ too long, since a woman had been this near to him, this close. Touching him...

_Fuck..._

And his mind submerged back to that guttered place - back to those dirty, silent wishes he made in the bar. A deep desire seeded into his core - 

The thoughts raced through his head, clashing and twisting. And he made a decision. Split second, spur of the moment. He gripped her chin with a calloused hand and jerked her face closer, pressing his mouth hot and rough onto hers.

 

///

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 will be ENTIRELY explicit. You are forewarned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daryl Dixon smut is the best kind of smut. This FINAL chapter is long, and contains copious amounts of it.
> 
> Apologies for the lateness of this update; my computer crashed & wiped the file, so I had to start over. If this work tracks well, I will definitely be writing Daryl in more stories. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

///

Of all the things that could have happened – all the scenarios that could have possibly played out in that moment – this was probably the one Elle _least_ expected. 

She had wanted him to stay around just a little bit longer. Just wanted to take a couple minutes to say thank you, - tell him exactly how grateful she felt. So when he took her face in his hand - _clenched_ it, tight – and brought his lips forcefully to hers, she didn't know precisely how to react. For the tiniest fraction of a second, several thoughts and emotions clashed through her at once.

The first, _surprise_. Obviously. The second, _uncertainty_. Fear and confusion all jumbled up into one. And _thirdly_ , panic. A man she had met only hours prior had violated her personal space and pushed himself on her. But that final inner emotion proved to be short-lived.

Because that was when she became _aware_.

It vaguely registered somewhere in a corner of her mind that this wasn't okay – or _was_ it okay? All she could think about was the grip of his mouth against hers: hot, ragged, and oh so desirable.

She felt her body react chemically to his touch, overriding any mental barriers she previously had.

His hand lifted her jaw and sealed it, secured it in his grasp. The touch was coarse – the hands of a brash man, a crass man.

And she melded to it.

///

Daryl knew when she submitted to him. One second she seemed stiff, unresponsive under his touch. And the next, _completely_ different. Her lips parted, allowing him better access. Shifting her chin at an angle, he deepened the kiss. And gradually, she began to kiss him back.

_Hell..._

A low moan escaped her – innate, almost subconscious – causing him to tear his mouth away. Lips freed, - a sudden emptiness. A feeling of loss.

Their eyes locked – held each other. Blue with the black. And he saw something in her gaze, reflecting what he knew was magnified in his own.

A secret hunger. A yearning need.

_Fuckin' hell..._

He knew exactly what he had to do.

///

Daryl's hand made a wild grab for the back of her head: knotting around her hair, tangling in it, pulling her back to his mouth.

His lips were hungry, and _he_ was hungry – forcing his tongue inside, depressing hers, twining with it in a furious way. Violent. Unrelenting.

She gasped for air, yet he didn't let her surface. She was _his_ now, under his control. She would breathe when he _wanted_ her to have a break.

And she was powerless in his hands, like a puppet played by its master. She could do nothing but try to keep up with his attack.

Suddenly, his hand yanked on her hair and jerked her head backwards, finally distangling her mouth and freeing her from the onslaught of his lips. He dragged her hair back to the point of pain, exposing her neck, and his lips seized her skin- teeth biting and marking.

Elle's heated gasps for air turned almost instantly into groans. Quiet. Soft. Dirty little noises that tease and tempt. They drove Daryl to the edge.

He worked his mouth down her skin to her collar bone, and nipped it once, _hard_. Elle cried out; her eyes closed. Using the hand not preoccupied with her hair, Daryl reached up to her shirt, and gave one of her tits a firm squeeze. Another whine issued past her mouth.

 _God_ , she was responsive. It turned Daryl on even more.

With a quick flip of his wrist, he ripped her shirt away and popped her tit free from her bra. Pale and heavy, it encompassed the whole of his hand. A small smirk played Daryl's features as his guttered fantasies from the bar resurfaced yet again. He _had_ to taste.

His lips swallowed down harshly on her breast, sucking deeply. Grunts and slurps left his mouth as he toiled – circling his tongue round her nip, raking it with his teeth. It grew hard and stood erect, desperate for more of his attention.

 _Fuckin' hell_ , she tasted better than he imagined. Creamy and soft and supple. The smile stretched wider as he freed her tit momentarily from his abuse, and licked his lips before resuming his work. _Yummy_.

Elle squirmed under his touch, her body rolling in waves of pleasure as hot, hushed breaths sneaked out of her. Another gasp, another moan.

Daryl whispered against her skin. “Don' worry, swee'heart. Ain't gonna forget tha' other one.”

And his hand finally left its grip on her hair, grasping her second tit and tugging it, too, from her shirt- before his mouth claimed it roughly. He toyed it while his thumb rubbed sensual patterns on the first tit's exposed peak. 

Elle's breathing became more labored with every sweep of his tongue, every bite of his teeth. It was difficult to form words.

“ _Ahhnn_.. Daryl...” she managed between fits of arousal, “...the neighbors... will see...”

A short, husky laugh left his lips, reverberating around her tit.

“Then let 'em look.”

And he continued his assault.

///

Elle could do nothing but bend to his will. She succumbed with a whimper as his hands trailed down her sides, pushing her back against the seat.

Leaning over the center console, he gripped her hips tightly, removed his mouth from her tit, - and in one swift motion, lifted her body up onto his lap.

 _Oh my god_. Her breath hitched in her throat.

She faced towards him, her thighs coming to rest around his hips, legs spread around him. Daryl was _much_ too close. His arms twisted around her waist, holding her in place. She could feel the heat of his body through his clothes – fiery with alcohol and fervor – and a growing bulge in the crotch of his pants.

“ _Nngh..._!” she gasped, feeling him press onto her cunt, “..D-..Daryl...” her breaths came in labored huffs.

He met her eyes in a lusted gaze, - and rolled his hips forward, once, grinding against her clit with his cock. The fabric of their jeans only made the movement that much more rough – and she felt herself moisten at the friction. Elle propped her hands on his chest for stability and leaned her head back, arching her spine, groaning in pleasure as he continued to grate on her.

“Fee'l tha't?” his voice was gruff and laced with dirty lust.

Dear _god_ , yes, she felt it. How could she _not_? His cock was large – and growing by the second. She panted in response, not trusting herself to talk.

Daryl reached one hand to her chin, cupping it in his palm like before, and tugged her face down to his, running his tongue along her bottom lip before gathering it in his teeth and biting her hard – almost drawing blood. He spoke, murmuring into her mouth.

“Move with me, swee'heart.”

And when he brought his hips up to roll against her again, she reciprocated the action – grinding forward to meet his cock – and they moved in unison – thrust for thrust.

She inhaled sharply as her juices leaked through her panties, dampening her jeans. _Dear lord_ , she was swimming in it.

“ _Daryl_...!” her voice came out strained and urgent as they met each other's hips in their slow, erotic dance. “...I... -I can't... I'm too wet...”

As soon as she managed to ghost the words past her lips, he ceased the motion – suddenly, unexpectedly. She brought her half-lidded eyes back to his and saw the _burn_ behind his gaze.

One of his arms stretched to the left and wrestled the door handle, shoving the driver's side door open faster than he could have kicked it.

“Get ou't.”

///

When she stumbled off his lap and onto the gravel path outside, he hopped out of the car and closed the door with one punt from his leg.

 _Fuck_ , he couldn't get her inside the motel fast enough. Not after what she just told him - : _“I'm too wet”_ \- was she fucking _trying_ to tease him?

He bent and scooped Elle quickly up into his arms, ignoring her shocked draw of breath, and carried her at top-speed to the room's porch. Her tits – still freed from her shirt – jiggled and bounced into his chest , offering a full public view.

A salacious grin played back onto his face. 

When he reached the door and snatched the woman's motel key from out of her back pocket, he transferred her weight over one of his shoulders – laying her clear across him. Elle writhed and fidgeted in a hurry. “N-no...! Daryl! People can see me...”

“Shu't _up_ ” he growled, swinging his hand forward and then bringing it back to slap her firmly on the ass. He heard her cry out in a combination of pain and humiliation – and he laughed internally. _Ya best fuckin' listen ta me._ And he busted the door open, stepped over the threshold, and slammed the door behind them. With a shift of his strength, he brought her around and threw her bodily against the door, jarring the door frame. His fingers pinched deeply into her shoulders – creating angry craters in her skin.

It was agonizingly _painful_ , that touch. The pain of his disapproval and irritation quite apparent in the grip of those hands. Elle again found it difficult to respire. But when he brought his mouth forward to hers – the touch was surprisingly _gentle_. 

His lips moved softly on hers – the exact opposite of before, and his tongue entered her mouth, brushing lightly to the back of her throat. And he kissed her deeply, undulating his tongue in a slow, sensual wave. _Mmmm._ She moaned around his mouth, unable to talk, unable to breathe, yielding completely to him. He was so far down in her throat that she could do nothing but ride the swell of his leisure.

When he allowed her some air, she exhaled in a torrid huff – a _whimper_. She wanted him back in her mouth. His hands let go of her shoulders, lowering her feet down to the floor – and clasped hold of the front of her jeans. Daryl quickly popped the button free and snaked her pants down past her knees.

Labored moans issued from her mouth as she realized what he was doing. Lifting her body up by the hips, he pressed her back into the door for leverage, and brought one hand to her lacey panties.

_White lace. Fuckin' hell._

Elle's breathing started in come in erratic gasps – close to hyperventilation, and Daryl couldn't help but grin – a crooked, smug smile. She _wanted_ him to touch her -so bad. And he wasn't about to let her down.

His hand moved slowly down to the lace – dragging it out, emphasizing the moment. _Fuckin' shit_ she _was_ wet – sticky juices swallowing her panties up into her pussy lips. He peeled the damp lace out of her cunt – held it to one side, and depressed one finger forcefully down her clit. The nub was swollen under its hood, raised in arousal – and when he swept his finger down the hollow curve to her opening, he felt her juice gush around him.

 _God damn_ , he had never had a girl this wet before. He played briefly with the wetness – messing it all along her cunt, trailing it sloppily down to her ass – and then shoved one calloused finger inside her folds.

He felt her walls clench tightly around him as he pumped the digit quickly – in, out, in, out – and heard Elle cuss lowly under her breath, her body spasming on the door.

“Naugh'ty girl...”

He worked her pussy rapidly, curling his finger within her, teasing it raggedly. Elle's voice became louder - _groaning_ , and she started to beg.

_“...nngh... please, Daryl, please...”_

Her begging was music to his ears, He slipped another finger inside her, driving her hard, - scissoring, twisting. He felt her get even _wetter_ around his fingers, flowing down his hand, dripping obscenely to the floor.

“ _Damn,_ girl,” he huffed crassly, “Ain't ya jus' tha' lewdest bitch...”

His dirty talk fell heavily on her ears, spurning her body almost to the edge. He felt the walls of her pussy close _hard_ around him – heard her cry out.

_“Ah...! Daryl...! I'm gonna...-”_

_Shit, already?_

Immediately he ceased his work and removed his fingers from her snatch – a wet, squelching sound. Elle exhaled sharply in response – her eyes narrowed – chagrined at his denial of her climax.

She looked so fucking _cute_ , all annoyed like that.

“Don' worry, girly. Ain't finished wit'h ya jus' yet.”

///

She half expected him to lead her straight to the bed – and god _damn_ , truthfully, she was ready for it. So it came as a complete shock when he picked her up again and entered the small adjoining bathroom.

“Uhm... Daryl...?” the question fell on what seemed like deaf ears. Daryl shouldered her forward and set her down on the bathroom counter, her back against the mirror. With a snap of his hardened arms, he spread her legs widely - exposing her before him.

Embarrassment gripped her as she tried to close her legs, pulling them together, - but Daryl's strength was too much for her. He held her knees in place, preventing her legs from joining back together.

She fought against him briefly – an uphill battle she knew she couldn't win. When she gave up squirming, he hooked two adept hands through the dampness of her panties and _yanked_ hard on them. The lace snapped and the panties were ripped away. Daryl threw them carelessly over his shoulder onto the bathroom floor.

Elle felt panic ebb its way up her throat – her heart beat a frantic pace. Daryl grasped his hands once more on her hips and pulled her to the edge of the counter, her ass resting _right_ on the brink.

_Oh my god, no..._

She knew what he was going to do.

“Daryl, wait...!” her voice tinged with anxiety. “What... what are you doing...?”

Daryl lowered himself so he knelt on the worn motel floor, his face mere inches from her pink cunt.

“Wha's wrong? Ain't never 'ad a guy go down on ya, b'fore?”

She hadn't, actually. But she couldn't bring herself to say it. Closing her eyes tight, she bit down on her thumb, stifling her erratic gasps.

His breath was hot and vulgar on her clit. It blew across her soaked pussy and she felt a chill as the wetness stung. Time stretched out – every second was an hour - ...

And then he brought his mouth to her snatch.

///

With one roll of his tongue past her clit, he felt Elle's body convulse involuntarily. He slid his tongue in a slow line from her peaked nub straight down to her pussy. Just a taste. _Yummy_.

Daryl brought his hands to wrap around her leg where her thigh met her sex – pulling her legs even further apart – and set to work. 

He loved going down on women. Especially because he knew _just_ how to make them scream.

Daryl pushed his tongue deeply into her folds, lapping at her spilled juices like they were water, drawing even _more_ out of her. He circled his tongue back up to her clit, flicking it with an incessant _pop_ \- back, forth, back, forth – before slowing down to a sensuous pull. He closed his lips around the nub and suckled gently, bringing sore rasps out of her mouth. 

Elle's breathing turned tortured.

 _“God, Daryl....”_ she whined – a muffled sound, like she was biting down on her own hand.

He teased her clit on the pivotal point of pain and pleasure – gliding past, mixing his saliva in with her arousal – and then abruptly changed the pace. He brought his mouth to surround her whole cunt and sucked it _hard_ \- slurping and smacking.

Elle cried loud - _once_ , and her hands flew to his hair, twining around the locks, holding his face to her cunt as he lathered her.

 _Shit_ , she tasted so good. And her moans were so _god damn_ delectable. He pressed his tongue even deeper inside her – as far as it would go – and brutally fucked it around, swirling between the walls of her pussy.

He knew she was close when he felt her cunt tighten around her tongue – and he gave it to her, speeding up just slightly - 

Until she screamed out in a fit of rapture as the sway of release hit her – and she spilled herself all over his lips. Her hands tightened in his hair, pulling it painfully, but Daryl rode her out, pushing the torment to the very end.

Gradually her hips slowed and she stopped bucking and grinding into his face, her breathing tough and labored. Daryl licked the last of her juices and let go of her legs, standing quickly. His mouth found hers and he urged her cum into her mouth, letting her _taste_ herself – she sighed into his lips.

 _Fuck_ , his cock was desperate for it now. He couldn't wait any longer.

“C'mon, baby. Tha' bed's callin mah name.”

///

Thank _god_ Daryl carried her there. She couldn't have walked even if she wanted to – her body felt like it had run a marathon, though she hadn't done _any_ thing.

It had been all him.

Daryl's strong arms wrapped around her again and rose her from the bathroom counter, encompassing her close to his chest – almost, just _almost_ \- like an embrace. He brought her out of the adjoined restroom and over to the bed, dropping her unceremoniously on top.

The hard motel bed felt like a pillow of clouds to her sore form. Yet she only had a moment to revel in it.

Daryl crawled beside her, practically on top of her – and kissed her again. Not gentle at all – brusque, brazen. Elle could tell he was at his limit.

Daryl tasted of dirt, sweat, and sunshine. Like worker's musk, - like stale vodka and cigarette smoke. Leather and motorcycle oil. She couldn't imagine anything more delicious. 

His mouth broke off hers much too soon – a soft whine stuck in the back of her throat. But she knew it was _his_ turn now, _his_ chance for pleasure.

Leaning back to balance on his knees, Daryl removed his sleeveless biker jacket, as well as the grubby shirt underneath. And she was finally gifted sight of his body. A toned stomach and lined chest, coupled with those _arms_... Tattoos scattered across his skin, with a fine dusting of hair.

Daryl Dixon was a god.

She only had a second to appreciate it, though. With another quick motion, he pulled off his jeans – and he was bare under them. No boxers. No undershorts. 

Just his cock.

 _God_ , he was large. 

With a gruff grunt, he leaned back down to her, yanking off her shirt and bra – which she didn't even realize were still on. And then he lied forward – their skin touched.

Elle shivered under his exposed flesh – tiny tremors. His mouth found her bruised tit and took it once more in its grasp – she reached outwards in response, raveling her arms around the planes of his back, scratching his skin.

Ahh. He had scars, there. She felt the outline of them – the raised, ropey lines etching criss-crossed, haphazardly placed.

_There were so many._

Elle felt a pang of sympathy for this man above her. So tough, so abrasive – who hid scars like these. What kind of man _was_ he?

Her thought process was interrupted by a firm bite on her tit, pulling her back down into ecstasy.

And that was where she stayed.

///

Daryl tried to ignore Elle's fingertips on his scars – reminders of a dark, abusive past better left forgotten. But then she _scratched_ him, raked her nails down his back – and immediately the gloom was driven from his mind.

He bit down on her tit in masochistic surprise, inhaling sharply.

“Fuckin' _hell_ -” he breathed onto her skin, feverish trails burning into his back, drawing pleasure from an area he never knew could incite him.

His hands stretched out in retaliation, pulling her arms from his back, pinning them to her sides. He caught her eyes in his – and he saw the question there, unspoken.

 _“No't there”_ was all he managed in reply.

He didn't trust his body there – mot _that_ part of him – and he _hated_ it. Confusion gripped him for a moment – how had _pleasure_ arisen from a place of such horrid pain?

 _God_ , he didn't need this right now. Anger ebbed quickly into him – clouding his brain, exploding into hostility.

He grabbed her shoulders harshly – heard her yelp in shock -, lifted her upper body from the bed, and threw her savagely back down. Her head snapped on the thin mattress, jolting her.

“ _Fuck_ you” he rasped. “Damn lil' bitch.” His hands tuned her body around – rough, careless. He didn't give two shits anymore. Jerking her hips up into position, he locked her thighs between his legs, and readied his cock at her entrance.

“Don' ya fuckin' move. I'mma fuck ya inta _shit_.”

And he rammed his dick inside her. Elle's scream fell on silent ears – all he cared about now was fucking her so hard that she wouldn't even remember him afterward.

And then - _maybe_ then – he would forget, too.

His cock worked her pussy at a furious pace – and _goddamn_ was she tight. He felt her walls clench, felt her body stiffen as cries of profanity tumbled out of her mouth.

He pulled his cock out to the tip with each thrust, and shoved it vigorously back in. Her body smacked about with the impact – and before long, Elle's screams turned into yearning huffs. Bitch was starting to like it.

“Knew ya want'ed it rough. Dirty lil' bitch...”

One hand tangled and yanked her hair, wrenching it painfully, nearly pulling it from her scalp. The other forced down between her shoulder blades, cutting off her air, denying her breath. She choked on minimal oxygen, gasping. Her body spasmed in a fit for freedom – and Daryl brought his hand stinging across her ass.

“ _Nah_ , I sai'd _don' move_.” And he spanked her again, leaving angry red marks all over her skin. Elle whimpered, - and her body ceased, - succumbing. Intense gratification seared through his veins; he sped up the rhythm. 

His cock pumping quickly, he held her body down – the dominant to her submissive. With a swift shift of his weight onto one thigh, he raised one of her legs at an angle, repositioned himself slightly, and fucked her at a slant. 

The new posture stuffed his cock even deeper into her snatch, father than Elle was prepared for it to go. Her moans once more rose into screams.

 _Fuck_. Daryl narrowed his eyes in concentration – his dick began to twitch with every plunge. _Fuck_ , he was close. And her shrieks only served to escalate it...

He rode her out to the edge – his cock finally hit its climax, - and he burst, flooding into her cunt, filling it with his seed.

“ _Fuck!_ ” his hips rammed into her ass one last time as he emptied his load. Sight and sound and sense, all twisted together.

With a heavy grunt, he pulled out of her; Elle's body immediately crashed down to the bed, weary and silent. Daryl rolled to his side and onto his back, laying next to her, feeling his breath come in labored groans.

True to his word, he had fucked her speechless. All she could do was fucking _lie_ there in a used heap – beat up and broken. Daryl felt himself grin at the thought – and he laughed once, - loud. Not believing that she had actually put up with it. Put up with _him_ , in his rage.

Maybe they _did_ mix, after all, Daryl mulled as his eyes drifted shut into sleep. Leather and lace, stitched together at last.

And he fucking loved it.

 

///

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank-you to everyone who read this story, & to those who left kudos. You are seriously fantastic!
> 
> xoxo – trappedinhellfire


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